


water makes many beds

by mokefer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Trust Issues, Winter Soldier Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokefer/pseuds/mokefer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I was there for you when you turned up, a big shot Captain looking like some dreamboat and I couldn't get a date if I was standing next to you. I took that. I was happy to be some second-rate chump, just so long as I could have your back wherever you went. I followed you onto that train. It was me who pulled you out of the river.” Bucky blinks away the tears that are pricking at his eyelashes. “I couldn't remember my name.” He repeats, breathless. “But I could remember yours. I trusted you all the way to the end. Why won't you trust me?"</i> </p><p>Bucky wants to remember. Steve doesn't believe he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	water makes many beds

**Author's Note:**

> i finally actually watched ca:tws and i'm about a year late but it filled me with inspiration and i had to write something.
> 
> i read a lot of tws fic where bucky is struggling to remember who he was and steve is unconditionally supportive throughout. i thought i'd turn the tables and write something where bucky is desperate to recover but steve just can't accept that it's really him.
> 
> i also recently remade a [ fandom blog](http://www.sgtbuckbarnes.tumblr.com) on tumblr if anyone's interested in following!
> 
> (also i know SHIELD technically disbanded after tws but suspend disbelief for me plz)

_How the Waters closed above Him_  
_We shall never know—_  
_How He stretched His Anguish to us_  
_That—is covered too—_

It's the first thing he remembers when he wakes up.

His eyes shoot open and he tries to shake the hair out of his eyes but when he tries to move he's met with resistance. Behind the strands of hair he thinks he can see it still – the soft blue water, flecks of debris, glittering in the light that manages to filter through from the surface.

And a figure.

Being dragged away from him. The water is pulling the figure downwards and though it's unconscious its arms are stretched towards the surface like its hand is reaching out and he's reaching back, though he doesn't know why. He doesn't know why but he knows he needs to save this man, to drag him out. His lungs are aching, ready to implode, but he pushes against the water and his instincts to rescue the figure.

And then there's a name.

He heaves in a shuddering breath, like he's been underwater for hours, and his arms tense against the restraints. He's not in the water any more but he might as well be because there are people everywhere and they're holding him under. 

The man's name. 

He tries to say it but he only emits a strained groan. The people around him start to panic. He tugs against his restraints harder, and then...

“Steve.” It bursts out of him like the sunrise. “St-Steve. Steve.” 

The people around him look confused but now he has the man's name he's not letting go of it. 

“Steve Rogers.” He stops struggling and starts pleading. “P-please.” 

A woman presses a button in the wall, speaks into it. “Can we get Captain Rogers down here please?” 

He lies still, closing his eyes, and though he breathes steadily now, each inhale is shattering and his body feels heavy with a hot agony. 

When he opens his eyes again there's the figure in the window. He turns his head as far as he can, the cool metal of the restraint is digging into his brow bone so hard he thinks he's broken the skin but he doesn't care. He needs to see him. 

The people start to notice that he's looking; they start crowding him to block his view and it's like they're holding him underwater again. 

Before Steve disappears behind a wave of white lab coats he turns his head and their eyes meet. The look Steve gives him is cold, angry, and something else. Hurt. Steve looks away.

He can't breathe again. His chest fighting for air. He realises as he surrenders to the dark shroud of sleep that they're putting him under because he's screaming. 

*

The darkness doesn't go away. Eventually they get rid of the restraints but they keep him in a cell. There are no windows. James blacks out; sometimes for minutes, sometimes for days at a time. He has no idea how long he's been here. Sometimes they'll come and bring him something to eat and then he wakes up and someone's pushing a needle into his neck and there's a dead agent on the floor and food in his hair. 

When things like that happen he closes in on himself – refuses food and drink, ignores the doctors sent to talk him out of his self-imposed confinement. He does this, not out of fear of the people, but fear of himself. Fear of what he'll do.

James overhears them saying that this is good - a sign that his programming is breaking down. It doesn't feel good. It feels like he's trapped in a cage. Like someone is dumping his head perpetually in and out of a bucket of cold water – lifting him free for a few blissful seconds of clean air, of consciousness, before he's plunged back into darkness until his lungs are ready to implode. 

When James does talk, he asks for Steve. He assumes his pleas are falling on deaf ears until one day they open his door and Steve's standing there. He takes up the whole door frame. He looks James straight in the eye.

James can _feel_ that he remembers Steve – even if he doesn't know how, he can feel it. 

And then Steve says. “That's not Bucky in there.” and he walks away. James knows that by “in there” he doesn't mean inside the cell – he means inside James.

The next day when the doctor comes back James finally lifts his head above the surface.

“I want to remember.” 

*

Remembering is a constant struggle. James' muscle memory still holds the combat skills of the Winter Solider but fighting a battle inside your own head is much harder.

He knows Bucky is in there. He appears sometimes when James is least expecting it – the doctor will ask him a question and without even pausing to think it will be Bucky who answers. 

Small bits of him creep back, but it's a slow process. Some days are good and he leaves the sessions feeling more of a person than he was when he went in. Some days it feels like he's treading water in a flood of conflicting memories he can't hope to decipher or understand. The doctors don't know all the details, all the small pieces that make up Bucky – they stumble across the triggers by accident, a street name or a song that bring him to life for a few moments each day. 

They also stumble across things that trigger the Winter Soldier – this happens once, by accident, and James has to be restrained and speaks only in Russian for a while. The first thing he utters in English is a request to have his metal arm deactivated until he's stable. 

After that, he starts asking for Steve again. He's in the doctor's room, ankles chained to his chair which is bolted to the floor. They've had a long session. His head is throbbing with memories that are straining to burst through the surface. The doctor is patient and quiet as she waits for an answer to her question.

“Please.” He says eventually, head cradled in his hands. “Let me see Steve. If I could only see Steve, talk to him, just once, I could remember.”

The doctor's lips are pursed. “Captain Rogers doesn't have security clearance to see you yet, James.”

He throws himself to his feet, struggling to balance against the chains as he propels himself forward. “Bullshit.” He spits. 

They finish the session there and James is escorted back to his cell. He doesn't understand why Steve won't see him.

*

When Bucky wakes up he thinks he's in the river again – then he blinks and he realises it's just the tears in his eyes. It's the same dream as usual – he's reaching for Steve but no matter how hard he swims against the water Steve is dragged slowly away until he vanishes, a speck of blue enveloped slowly by darkness. 

The room they've put Bucky in now has a window. He gets out of bed and stumbles to it, pressing his forehead against the cool glass and wishing he could crack it open and suck in just one lungful of crisp night air to soothe his aching chest. 

His metal arm is cool too as he scrambles back into bed and holds it close to his torso, waiting for his pulse to slow to a steadier rhythm. 

It seemed that as his recovery progressed, the nightmares got worse. The more he tries to suppress the Winter Soldier, the harder his programming fights back – through his dreams, when he lowers his guard. He's scared to fall asleep. He's scared he'll wake up and lose a bit of himself again. 

There are voices outside in the corridor and he closes his eyes in case they check on him. If they think his recovery is going badly, they try and give him drugs to shut off the dangerous parts of him – but the drugs shut off _all_ of him. Not just the bits of him that come from the Winter Soldier, but the bits of him that come from Bucky too. He becomes a blank slate again. It's too close to the person HYDRA made him into. 

“I've been told he's making excellent progress.” The voice is Natalia. She's part of the Winter Soldier's history. They offered to let him talk to her instead of Steve but he was worried she'd drag the wrong parts of him up to the surface. “He asks them to call him Bucky now. They think he'll be stable pretty soon.”

There's a low grunt in response. The two people are outside his room. They slide open the small viewing window in the door – he may not be kept in a cell anymore, but he doesn't have complete privacy yet.

There's silence and Bucky feigns sleep. 

“He asks for you. All the time.” Natalia speaks again and Bucky's heart seizes up when he realises who she's speaking to.

“ _Bucky_ asks for me? Or the Winter Soldier?” Steve's voice is gravely and stern. 

Natalia doesn't respond for a long time. The window slides shut. “You'll have to trust him eventually. SHIELD does.” 

They keep talking as they walk away. 

“Yeah, well, SHIELD didn't know Bucky like I did. And whatever's in there is certainly not Bucky.”

*

Bucky passes Steve in the corridor sometimes and they ignore each other. Usually it's when he's on his way to feed SHIELD more of the Winter Soldier's intel. When he feels comfortable enough in his identity he starts to tell them things about his past, and SHIELD trusts him more and more until they give him a room where he can shower without a supervisor and open his window as wide as he wants and where he gets to choose if and when the door is locked. He doesn't need agents escorting him everywhere he goes now. He has his own agency. 

After one session he mentions that his beard is becoming irritating, and when he gets back to his room there's a pair of scissors and an electric razor in his bathroom. This means they don't think he's going to try and slice his wrist open or electrocute himself in the bath anymore. 

He shaves clean. His face looks unbalanced with no stubble and long hair, so he pulls it loose from where it's bunched at the nape of his neck and gives himself a short back and sides like they used to do for each other in the army. He feels like Bucky again.

He passes Steve in the canteen the next day. Steve does a double take; his face slips into a look of confusion, loss, betrayal - he never wore his heart on his sleeve but Bucky could always read him. Bucky moves silently past him and sits on a table in the corner on his own. 

*

Bucky hears the raised voices before he even enters the room. 

“...with a security threat like _that_ on our team? Are you kidding me, Fury? He's tried to kill at least half of us on more than one occasion and you want him clued in on all SHIELD's intel and invited into the folds of our top...”

Steve stops talking when Bucky walks in and half turns away. He won't look at him, just stares out of the window with his arms folded and his posture stiff. The room is stuffy, hot with hostility and the tension of an unresolved argument. Steve is backlit but the light that illuminates the curve of his cheek picks out the angry red flush in his face.

“Agent Barnes.” He's still getting used to being addressed like that, now he's an official SHIELD employee. “Please take a seat.”

“No, Director Fury, it's fine. I know where I'm not wanted.” He doesn't take his eyes off Steve; silently praying for him to say something, to turn around, to respond to Bucky somehow, to acknowledge him for even the briefest of moments. “I don't want to compromise the integrity of the team.” 

He recognises the faces around the table; they're all focused on Steve. Stark; Banner; Thor; the one with the arrows. It's Natasha who speaks first. 

“Just sit the fuck down, Barnes.” She speaks quietly but with snappy firmness. The whole room reacts to that, even Steve, who flinches at her uncharacteristic outburst. 

Bucky does as she says. 

“With all due respect, this is a team discussion.” She addresses the room, her voice level once more. “And a team decision.”

“Thank you, Agent Romanov.” Fury finishes. “Perhaps when Captain Rogers is done causing a scene he can come and join us.”

Steve storms out of the room. 

Bucky spends the rest of the meeting feeling like he's suffocating. The hot air sits heavy in his lungs. It's almost like drowning. 

*

Bucky learns that he loves being back in the field again. Fighting is the one thing that has stayed consistent – from Bucky, through the Winter Soldier, to who he is today. It's what he's always done.

The team recruits him strictly as a sniper only. Fury makes it clear when they hire him that they only want _Bucky's_ physical skills for now, not the Winter Soldier's. He tries to explain to Fury that the two are not so easily separated, but they still keep him far away from the action, on the tops of tall buildings or holed up in the kind of nooks they find for Hawkeye.

He's grateful that they let him be involved regardless. The rush of the pursuit and the battle is exhilarating – he feels like a Howling Commando again – it's like being picked up by a rushing current, and he has no choice but to let himself be carried along. He has to think on his feet. He hovers the cross-hairs carefully over a HYDRA agent on his way to tackle Natasha, squeezes the trigger, and watches him crumple to the floor. They're stragglers, left overs trying to hijack a SHIELD submarine, thirsty for the blood of the agents who foiled their plans. 

His earpiece crackles into life. _“I'm on the ship – there are more agents than we'd anticipated. I'm taking on as many as I can but I can't hold up much longer. I need back up.”_ There's a pause and a grunt, the simultaneous slap and crunch of fist to flesh and bone. _“Does anybody copy?”_

 _“Little busy.”_ Natasha's voice is strained, Bucky can see as well as hear her in combat from his position high up on the roof of the shipyard. Iron Man and Thor are dealing with the air attack and Hawkeye has been taken casualty.

He takes a deep breath. “I copy, Captain.”

There's silence from Steve. 

“Captain?” Bucky repeats at the same time as Steve says _“Does anybody else copy?”_

Bucky sighs. 

“Agent, please stick to your orders and remain in position.” Steve's voice is void of emotion.

He hears another punch, and Steve's groan tells Bucky it wasn't Steve who threw it. 

Steve only asks for help when he really needs it.

Bucky doesn't try to argue with Steve, just silently, swiftly, packs away his equipment, slings it over his shoulder and scales back down the side of the building. He knows Natasha, knows she can hold it together on land without his help. 

He launches himself onto the boat, pulls the semi-automatic pistol from his belt – he's never had the chance to use it on a mission before. He takes down two before he even gets to the door. It feels good to be within the action rather than watching from afar. He doesn't know how Barton can stand it. 

_“Bucky, are you sure about this?”_ It's Natasha in his earpiece. They never address each other using first names during missions – this is how Bucky knows she's talking to him on a personal level, not a professional one. She knows him, knows he's more than ample back up for Steve. She wants to know if this will affect his recovery. _“It's definitely still you in there?”_

“Yeah.” Bucky reassures her. “It's all me.”

He finds the door hanging off it's hinges and knows it's where Steve's broken in. He kicks the rest of the door out of the way and then he's at Steve's side, taking down the renegades Steve can't with fast, lethal efficiency. 

“Agent!” Steve shouts at him. “I told you to stay put. You're compromising the mission.”

It's the first time he's spoken to Bucky face to face since the fight on the Helicarrier, when Bucky was still the Winter Soldier and Steve was still only his mission. 

“You're compromising the mission, jerk.” Bucky calls back over before he uses his metal arm to grab a guy by his neck and hurl him to the floor.

Steve's taken aback by his overly familiar insult, faltering in his block of an oncoming punch – Bucky throws himself between Steve and the attacker, grabs the man's arm, twists it behind him and dislocates his shoulder with a pleasing pop.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Steve spits out his words with uncharacteristic venom.

Bucky reloads in time to fire two rounds into the face of a potential attack. He turns back to Steve and gives him an exasperated look. “Maybe because I'm here saving your ass?” 

Steve's face is contorted with anger.

“How do I know you are who you say you are?” Steve growls. “How do I know it isn't still the Winter Soldier in there? How do I know you're not just putting this on till you're as far in as you can get so you can tear us apart from the inside?”

Steve articulates his words with such ferocity that saliva is gathering at the corners of his lips. He wipes his mouth on the back of his glove, smudging dirt across his cheek in the process, his chest heaving as he faces off against Bucky. 

Bucky didn't think it would hurt like this - hearing Steve tell the truth about how he feels towards him. He doesn't realise he's wincing from Steve's outburst until now when he's recoiled back a step. 

Then a bullet ricochets off the ground inches from Bucky's feet and they launch back into combat. 

They take back control of the sub and wipe out the renegade agents. Bucky is penalised for going against orders and given an indefinite suspension. In the debrief, the rest of the team speak up in defence of him – without his intervention, the mission would have undoubtedly failed. 

Steve stays silent.

*

It's a few weeks until he's allowed to join the missions again – they pass long and slow. Natasha comes to visit him sometimes to fill him in on the operations he's missed. Every time she visits he yearns to ask her about Steve, from the moment she slinks in to the moment she leaves. It bubbles up in the back of his throat and threatens to spill over every time he opens his mouth. 

He doesn't ask her about Steve, but, eventually, he does ask her about something else.

“How are your memories?” She questions. She's perched delicately on the end of his bed. He's leaning against his dresser. 

“Not so bad.” He admits. “There are still some blank spots. Some big ones, some not so big. Sometimes I think it's better that way.” He casts his eyes down to the floor. “At least I know who's in the driver's seat now.”

He wonders sometimes why Natasha trusts him so implicitly. Steve's words on the submarine cut deeply and left their scars, and since the mission he's been left wondering if he can even trust himself. He thinks Natasha is rooting for him because she was in the same position as him, once upon a time. Maybe it's because she knows how important it is to have someone who trusts you in recovery. Maybe it's because she doesn't want people to question her loyalty now that they've questioned his. 

“Nat, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She replies with a smile. Though her visits are regular and their relationship strong, she still speaks to him with a careful politeness, like she's constantly holding him at arms length. He doesn't think it's because she's scared of him; more because she's scared of getting too emotionally attached.

“Did...” He pauses to pick his words. “Did I love you?” 

The question takes her off guard – he knows her from his old life well enough to know that it has – but she does a good job of hiding it. 

“Yes. I suppose you could say we were in love.” Bucky notices how she admits mutual feelings and doesn't hesitate in doing so. Her answer sounds rehearsed, like it's something she's thought a lot about. “But that doesn't matter now. We're different people.” She looks straight at him, her eyes searching for something in his gaze. “How much else are you unsure of?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. As far as SHIELD is concerned, he's recovered, and he doesn't want to jeopardise that. “Events I remember just fine. It's emotions I'm not one hundred percent about.” He admits. “It's hard to tell what's my own and what they put in there. How much of it is manufactured.” 

He turns away from her. He suddenly yearns to be alone with his thoughts. 

“Well, that's something I can't help you with.” She reads him almost too well and stands up to leave, but pauses at the door. “With us, I think, they were worried we would be a distraction to each other. But they allowed it because it kept you with them. You had an investment in your work. It was better than the alternative.” 

She's closing the door when Bucky responds. “What was the alternative?” 

“You were stuck in the past. You wouldn't move on. I helped you forget him.” 

*

Bucky is running late for his first debrief since he was suspended. It's a mistake the Winter Soldier would never have made, and that reassures Bucky. It's exactly the kind of thing he always used to do – lose track of time in the shower and spent a little too long getting dressed and fussing over his hair. Between the missions and the military life he's living as a SHIELD agent, he sometimes gets lost inside a tacticians mind and forgets to let go. He feels more himself than he has in a long time as he saunters into the boardroom. 

At first glance, it's empty. He's not surprised that they finished up quickly; it was a small mission, it ran smoothly. They could have done it without him but he has a feeling Natasha had words with Fury about keeping him busy. 

“You're late, Agent.” It's Steve. He's sitting alone in one of the chairs. The table in front of him is clear except for a half empty glass of water. “Fury's not impressed. I told him you weren't ready to integrate back into the team.” 

“Yeah, uh, about that.” Bucky brushes his damp hair back, away from his face. He can't believe that Steve Rogers makes him nervous now. “I lost track of time.” 

“Sure.” Steve stands. He still won't make eye contact with Bucky. “I'll be taking this into account when deciding if you'll be welcome on the next mission.”

“Oh, come on.” Bucky's losing patience, he hides it with a chuckle. “So I was a little late, I'm sure you've done it before.”

Steve does look at him now, eyes burning a bright, furious blue. His words are loaded with venom, measured to hurt. “How would you know?” 

Something inside Bucky snaps. The dam that has been holding him back bursts, and his resentment starts to spill over. “How would I know?” He feels sarcastic laughter bubbling up in his throat. “No, you're right. How would I know? How could I possibly know, when I've known you since we were thirteen years old?”

Steve recoils like the comment was a slap in the face. 

“I don't know who you think I am.” Bucky continues “D'ya think the Winter Soldier would walk into a debrief twenty minutes late? No, he wouldn't, because if he did, they'd have wiped him and started all over again 'till he got it right.” 

Steve tries to maintain his steely guise but Bucky can see where his expression is slipping; somewhere behind his eyes and in the slant of his brow his mask is washing away. 

“Y'know, I think I remember every goddamn time you were late for something. You remember that time in middle school and you were helping Helen Nowak with her English assignment and missed half of History class so I told 'em your piano lesson ran over so they wouldn't think you two were up to no good? Then you turned up and had to tell 'em the goddamn truth?” Bucky's still angry but he can't help laughing. “They kept us both behind for an hour after class for lyin'.”

Steve looks for a moment almost like he might laugh too, but then the thunder clouds his brow again. “How do I know you're not just using his memories to get to me?”

Bucky feels another surge of frustration so strong he could punch Steve square in the jaw. “Jesus, Steve, I didn't even remember my own name. They took everything from me. I was a fucking vegetable.” He remembers one of the doctors telling him they don't use that word anymore but that doesn't stop him from spitting it out with fierce conviction.

Steve casts his eyes to the floor. “I've heard enough.” He pushes past Bucky to the door. 

“What happened to 'till the end of the line?” Bucky's voice is quiet, accusing. 

Steve freezes, but he doesn't turn round. 

“I was there for you when you turned up, a big shot Captain looking like some dreamboat and I couldn't get a date if I was standing next to you. I took that. I was happy to be some second-rate chump, just so long as I could have your back wherever you went. I followed you onto that train. It was me who pulled you out of the river.” Bucky blinks away the tears that are pricking at his eyelashes. “I couldn't remember my name.” He repeats, breathless. “But I could remember yours.” 

Steve's shoulders tense.

“I trusted you all the way to the end. Hell, Steve, I loved you.” Bucky's voice is hoarse from exhaustion. 

Steve turns at that. “You never told me that.” 

“It's true.” Bucky says quietly. “I never stopped loving you.”

Steve doesn't look angry any more. Bucky doesn't need to have known him for eighty years to read the desperation written into his face. “I want to trust you, Buck, I...” It's the first time he's called Bucky by his name. “...I just can't.”

“Why not?” Bucky pleads. “What's stopping you?” 

“I can't... I can't lose you again.” Steve's voice is wavering; for the first time he's addressing Bucky Barnes and not the Winter Soldier. “I'm scared to lose you to him again.”

“That's not gonna happen.” Bucky swears even though he can't be sure himself. “I promise you, Steve, I'm not gonna let that happen.”

Steve remains desperate and unconvinced.

“If you don't believe me then help me. Help me be Bucky. You're the only one who really knows me. The doctors were nice they can only do so much. You know so much more, you unlock bits of me even I didn't know existed – why do you think I kept asking for you?” Steve looks stung, guilty. Bucky holds out a hand. “Please?”

There's a painful silence; Steve just stares at Bucky's outstretched hand. 

Bucky's about to drop it, to give up on Steve and walk out of the room, when Steve grabs his hand gently, lacing their fingers together. “Okay.” He looks Bucky straight in the eye. “Okay.”

Bucky pulls himself into Steve's chest, pressing his face into Steve's neck, his arms constricting around his back. It takes Steve a moment, and then he wraps his arms tight around Bucky's shoulders.

It's the last thing Bucky needs to let go.

He starts to sob. Steve doesn't notice for a few seconds, until Bucky's body is heaving and he's breathing in shaky gasps.

“Hey.” Steve tries to untangle Bucky from the way he's clamped himself around Steve. He hasn't factored in the power of Bucky's metal arm and enhanced body – he has to use all his strength to pull him away and hold him at arms length. “Hey, don't cry, Buck.” 

Bucky scrubs a hand across his face to wipe away the tears but new ones fall to take their place. “I missed you.” 

Steve's eyes are so earnest and open when he uses his thumbs to swipe the tears away before they fall down Bucky's cheeks. 

“I missed you too. Don't cry.” Then he pulls Bucky's head towards his and uses his lips to brush the tears away. “Please don't cry.” He whispers against Bucky's cheekbone.

Steve still has a couple of inches on him, but it's not hard for Bucky to nuzzle his face into Steve's and press their lips together. Both their faces are wet with Bucky's tears and Steve's lips are soft and warm. Bucky can taste the salt water on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!
> 
> i think this is probably the most thought i've ever put in to a fic in terms of structure and language, with all the water imagery and bucky's development and stuff. feedback would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
